


the one where they mourn

by singingwithoutwords



Series: Imagine Tony and Rhodey [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from the <a href="http://imaginetonyandrhodey.tumblr.com/">Imagine Tony and Rhodey</a> blog:</p><p>Rhodey and Tony grieving for JARVIS after the events of AOU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where they mourn

There’s a hologram, glowing orange, jagged and fragmented and unmoving and  _broken_ , in the corner of the lab, because Tony can’t bear to delete it.  It’s all he has left.  You can’t take pictures of an AI, after all.

Tony sits on the table, fingers curled around the edge, hunched over.  He sits and stares at the hologram, remembering when it was whole and alive, and contemplates why it’s not.

“Tony?”

The restrictions on the lab are tighter than they used to be.  Friday’s still getting used to her duties, and she’ll probably flex within reasonable limits a few times before she settles, but right now there are only two people in the world besides Tony that are allowed in here.

“You’ve been in here since last night,” Rhodey says, hauling himself onto the table next to Tony.  Tony makes a soft noise to show he heard, but otherwise doesn’t react, and Rhodey sighs.  “Talk to me, Tones.”

Tony closes his eyes and slumps sideways, letting Rhodey take his weight.  Rhodey wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer, kissing his temple.

“I know,” Rhodey says quietly.  “I miss him, too.”

Because unlike the team, Rhodey  _understands_.  He understands that Jarvis isn’t just fragmented, that he’s  _dead_ , that Ultron murdered him when he ripped his coding apart.  That Tony didn’t just lose a snarky digital butler, he lost a friend he’s known for decades, someone who knew him even better than Rhodey.  He didn’t lose a creation when he lost Jarvis, he lost a  _child_.  Everyone else, even Bruce, doesn’t realize exactly what Tony’s mourning, but Rhodey does.

Tony hasn’t cried yet.  It hasn’t even been a week since they saved the world again, and he’s been too busy or too numb to properly grieve.  But it’s just him and Rhodey (and Friday) now, so he finally lets go and has that good prolonged soul-emptying outburst any parent in his position would need.

Rhodey holds him through it, and even cries with him for a bit.  Rhodey might not have been all that close to Jarvis, but they were friends, in a weird way, and Tony isn’t grieving alone.

It feels like hours later when Tony finally runs out of tears.  His whole face is sore, his eyes dry and aching, and his head is pounding something awful.  He’s absolutely ruined Rhodey’s shirt, but Rhodey doesn’t seem to mind.  He lets Tony pull away but keeps a hand on his shoulder, a silent reminder that the support’s still there if he needs it.  Tony lets him.

They sit in silence as the minutes tick by, not that any of the clocks in the Tower actually tick.  His chest hurts a little, and he still feels like he’s about to collapse under the weight of Jarvis’s absence, but maybe a little less than before.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Rhodey suggests after a while, standing.  Tony stands, too, casting one last look at the hologram before turning toward the door.

“Lock up for me, Friday,” Tony says.  “Everything except him.”

“On it, boss,” Friday assures him.  She’s young and unsure, but she’s an AI, too.  She’ll respect Jarvis’s memory in any way she can.  The lights go down, and by the time the lab door slides shut behind them, there’s only a faint orange glow from the corner reflecting off every polished surface.

Someday, he’ll find the strength to shut that down, too, and leave the lab in peaceful darkness.  Not now, not soon, but someday.


End file.
